Strands Playing in the Sunlight
by Fly Raven. Fly
Summary: The first thing Blaine wakes up to is pale skin and sunlight.


**This has been bugging me since I wrote "Slightly Sick". This is just another, Blaine-realizes-he-loves-Kurt fic. I warn you know to take heed; complete and utter fluff, you may need to brush your teeth, it's so sweet. Seriously. **

**For anyone who read my other story Slightly Sick, wow. You guys rule, I honestly didn't think anyone would read it, let alone leave the amazing reviews you guys have. I only hope someone will enjoy this little one-shot just as much. And leave just as amazing reviews. **

**So this is pretty much a thank-you fic for everyone who read my other story, and I hope you enjoy reading it. (And thank Alexz Johnson, and her song I don't know if I Should Stay. I wouldn't have started writing it if this song hadn't kicked me.) And it also is not beta'd, so if you find any mistakes, they're all mine and I apologize. **

**Disclaimer: Insert something witty about how I don't own Glee here**

The first thing Blaine wakes up to is pale skin and sunlight.

For a moment, all he can do is stare at his best friend, at the way the streaks of sunlight pour through the cracks in the blinds onto Kurt's abnormally mussed hair. The locks play in the light, brown changing and shifting into a dark auburn and even a blonde strand here and there, ducking and weaving through the shadows of the window cast on him.

A band of sunlight falls across the curve of his cheek, across the eyelashes fluttering slightly against his cheekbones, across the strand of that ever changing hair against his eyebrow, and he can't resist, he reaches out to trail a finger lightly—so lightly, almost not even touching him—against the side of his face.

Kurt sighs softly, and tilts his head up a bit, so the light is now caressing his jaw line, the corner of his lips, and the side of his neck. Blaine huffs out a soft laugh as Kurt sighs again and cuddles his face into Blaine's pillow. Something catches in his chest as Kurt inhales and smiles slightly in his sleep.

This close—closer, Blaine thinks, than he's ever been to Kurt before—he can see a freckle that he's never noticed before, on the lobe of Kurt's ear. He can see the faintest trace of facial hair on his jaw line, something that seems so foreign on the normally pristine boy. He can see every single eyelash, and the slightest laugh line against the corner of his eyes. His bottom lip is fuller that his upper lip, and he looks more relaxed when he's sleeping than Blaine's ever seen his best friend before.

He thinks for a moment, but only vaguely, and far away, that they should probably get up before they miss class. He can hear doors opening and closing in the hall, and faint muttering, and he knows Wes and David would be there any moment, after finding that Kurt never returned to his room after their movie night, after falling asleep in Blaine's bed with his head on Blaine's shoulder. He knows they need to get ready, but he can't pull his eyes away and he doesn't have the heart to wake up the beautiful and peaceful boy in his bed.

The fact that he had referred to Kurt as beautiful is barely noticed. He knows he is, it's a fact, but it seems different, lying here in his bed with the light playing on the boy sleeping next to him. Everything seemed different in the early morning sunlight, where everything _felt _different, like the world was something that they only imagined and the only thing that existed, the only thing important to him, the only person to make him feel like this was here, right next to him. The only thing special was Kurt, and watching the strands of hair shift in color.

You read, or hear that when it hits you, it hits you like a sledgehammer, or it leaves you dumbfounded, and uncertain. That it was this huge production where one moment you were clueless and the next you knew it all. That it hit you, hard, and you're left reeling with the new information you have, that you have to deal with and handle.

It wasn't like that at all for Blaine. It felt like drinking hot chocolate on a snowy day, the warmth from his stomach expanding into his fingertips and all the way down to his toes, and his breath catching, and just feeling so completely _right. _It didn't hit him. It whispered to him, saying "Oh. You're the one I didn't even realize I was looking for. I found you." It was Kurt's hand in his as they ran down the hallway, Kurt's laugh, Kurt's eyes sparkling as he was being sarcastic, or teasing; it was Kurt's voice as he sang his feelings to the world, or along with the radio. It was Kurt who baked when he was stressed, who expressed himself through his clothing, who held himself with pride but was so uncertain. It was Kurt, strong Kurt who was also fragile and brave. Kurt, who hid himself behind steely words and comebacks. It was Kurt's tears on his cheeks, and Kurt's temper, and Kurt's fingers as he played the piano, and Kurt's eyes, and lips and heart and it was just _Kurt_. It was his best friend. This was the boy he loved, that made him _feel_, that made him laugh, that made him frustrated and slightly overwhelmed and confused and happy.

It was always Kurt. He always knew it. He just finally realized it between the pale sheets, the sunlight on the head resting on his pillow, and the curve of his cheek. Between the freckle, and Blaine's finger on his cheek, and Kurt's smile. He was warm, and it was all Kurt. It was only Kurt.

The first thing Kurt wakes up to is soft eyes, and sunlight dancing in Blaine's dark curls.


End file.
